


you're the only one i want

by 1000_directions



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (sort of?), Dancing, Established Relationship, M/M, Riding, Rimming, Roleplay, Sexual Inexperience, Virginity Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:48:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25816825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1000_directions/pseuds/1000_directions
Summary: When Bucky leaves the straight razor on the counter next to the sink, it’s a signal. Sometimes, he just wants to be loved like he’s never known cruelty. Like he’s never been hurt. And when he carefully shaves his face and leaves the razor beside the sink, Clint loves him exactly like that, exactly the way he needs.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 13
Kudos: 113





	you're the only one i want

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kangofu_CB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Love Me Two Times](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19034392) by [Kangofu_CB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/pseuds/Kangofu_CB). 
  * Inspired by [Love Me Two Times](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19034392) by [Kangofu_CB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/pseuds/Kangofu_CB). 



> this is a birthday gift for my absolute dearest CB!!! it is intended as a sequel to her series [tell me that it's all for me](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1610983). this story probably doesn't make sense without reading those first, but you should read them first anyway because it's the hottest fire sexiest fic that's ever existed, basically.
> 
> this is a story about modern bucky roleplaying as a younger version of himself during sex. that's it, that's the fic!

When Bucky leaves the straight razor on the counter next to the sink, it’s a signal.

He and Clint have had a few years to settle into this relationship now. He’d always suspected it might become something serious, even when it was casual between them, even when it was heated and dirty and superficial. It was easy and light and filthy between them, and Bucky didn’t know why he was so drawn to Clint, didn’t know why it was so easy to fall into bed with him when he was so skittish about letting anyone else get close.

And then they _traveled back in time_ , like something out of H. G. fuckin’ Wells. And he and Clint seduced a younger version of himself, which was nothing like any book he’d ever read, H. G. Wells or otherwise. And on that day, something in his memory slotted back into place, like the carriage on a typewriter shoved all the way back to the right at the end of a line. Satisfying. Precise. He knew with perfect certainty what had already happened, what was _about_ to happen. He remembered being that naive, happy-go-lucky young man, preening under the devoted attention of his past-and-future boyfriend.

And he remembered the years after. The waiting. The certainty that he wasn’t done yet, that he was invincible, unkillable, that he still had a gorgeous tow-headed man waiting for him at some unknowable point in the future. It was a piece of knowledge he could hold onto when he was cold in a trench during the war, or when he was reciting his name and serial number over and over to his tormentors in Azzano. Even in a cryotube in Siberia, brain scrambled and starting to freeze like the hard icy crust over soft snow, right before the cold seized him, he went somewhere warm and safe in his brain, held in the arms of someone who cared for him very, very much.

So it started out feeling casual, but it was never _actually_ casual. Fuck, Bucky was in love with Clint Barton before Clint Barton was even _born_.

And so now, with three years and also seventy-eight years of history between them, Bucky knows how to ask for what he wants. And sometimes what he wants is for Clint to touch him like he’s still that soft and eager man he was the first time they met. Like what he lacks in experience, he makes up for with raw, unbridled desire. Sometimes, he just wants to be loved like he’s never known cruelty. Like he’s never been hurt. And when he carefully shaves his face and leaves the razor beside the sink, Clint loves him exactly like that, exactly the way he needs. Exactly the way he did in 1941, the very first time he saved Bucky’s life.

He feels a weird thrill as he places the blade beside the basin, making nearly imperceptible adjustments with just his fingertips until it’s perfectly squared, the handle perfectly perpendicular to the edge of the counter. He’d left the blade there that morning for Clint to see, to _know_ , and returning it to the same place after use fills him with a deep satisfaction. He loves the precision of the preparation: face flawlessly smooth, blade exactingly displayed, Clint explicitly notified.

The softly fizzing feeling stays with him as he dresses himself, buttoning up his shirt and stepping into pants he wouldn’t otherwise be caught dead wearing in the twenty-first century. He slides the suspenders up over his shoulders, relishing the snug fit, the way they almost compress his body, making him feel smaller. He didn’t actually wear suspenders much in his younger days; Sergeant Barnes was more of a belt man. But he tried them on once at Clint’s suggestion, and the heated look he got in return was worth the slight anachronism. This isn’t a historical reenactment, and it doesn’t need to be accurate down to the last buckle. It just matters that he’s hot for it, and Clint’s hot for it, too, and the props just help to set the mood.

When he’s done getting dressed, Bucky looks at himself in the mirror. Even after all this time, it’s strange to see his current physique inside this style of clothing. He’s nothing of the man he was before, this long-haired, metal-armed version of himself, bulky with muscles, riddled with scars. If he’s not in quite the right mindset, the sight of himself like this almost feels grotesque. Who is he kidding with any of this?

But Clint treats him like he’s soft. Like he needs to be cared for. Like he needs to be _taught_. And he’s so sweet and genuine that it’s easy for Bucky to believe, too.

He makes the bed methodically, and then there are no other preparations. He’s shaved and dressed, and the familiar yearning is starting to uncurl in his belly like a cat waking up from a nap. So he leaves the bedroom and sits on the couch that faces the front door, and he shuts his eyes and slows his breathing. And he lets the yearning spread out through him until he’s almost dizzy with it, and he waits for Clint to come home.

It seems to be barely any time at all before he hears the key turn in the lock. Bucky blinks, waits for his eyes to readjust to the dim light of the room as the door opens and Clint steps through, humming softly to himself. Bucky’s heart seizes at the sight of him: tall, beautiful, _here_.

Clint stops in his tracks when he locks eyes with Bucky. A lopsided smile spreads across his freckled face, and Bucky’s helpless to do anything but return it.

“You’re here,” Bucky breathes. “You came back for me.”

“Of course I came back for you,” Clint agrees softly, setting down his things and closing the door behind himself. “Babe, how could I ever stay away?”

Clint crosses the room with three strides of his endlessly long legs, and before Bucky even realizes it, he’s on his feet rushing to him, falling into his arms, tilting his face upwards. Clint catches his cheek with one warm hand and kisses him deep and thorough, searching, and Bucky eagerly melts into the kiss, into the sturdy bulk of Clint’s chest. Clint licks into his mouth and Bucky mewls, desperate and happy, and Clint chuckles gently against his lips.

“Did you miss me?” Clint murmurs.

“I always miss you,” Bucky says, guileless, defenseless. “I think about you all the time.”

The teasing look on Clint’s face morphs into something more serious, more tender. He strokes his thumb over Bucky’s lips, and Bucky shivers helplessly. Clint’s here, touching him, and it’s everything he’s ever wanted.

“That can’t be true,” Clint says, and his voice is so low that Bucky swears he feels it vibrating through his bones. “You’re not thinking about me when you’re out dancing with some pretty girl who’s just dying to get you between her legs.”

“Wish I could be dancing with you.” It’s so needy, but he can’t help it. Nothing else feels like this, no matter how many other people he meets. Nothing compares.

“You really want to dance with me?” Clint asks quietly, and Bucky nods. “Okay then, baby. Give me a minute to find some music.”

Clint presses a quick kiss to Bucky’s forehead and then steps away to mess with the radio, and Bucky watches him go, pressing his own hand to his cheek where Clint’s just was. Clint finds a song that Bucky hasn’t heard before, something slow and romantic and dreamy. It’s not good dancing music, not really. But Clint comes back to him and sweeps Bucky into his arms, and Bucky fists his hands in Clint’s shirt and tucks his face into Clint’s warm neck and lets himself be moved.

When Bucky thinks of dancing, he thinks of something raucous, sweaty, energetic. Something public and communal. But this is different. Clint’s arms are so strong and sure around him, their bodies pressed together from head to toe. Clint’s lips brush over his hairline as they shuffle together in a small circle, and it’s private. Intimate.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” Clint whispers, and Bucky preens. “I think about you, too. Think about all the things I want to do to you.”

“What do you want to do to me?” Bucky asks coyly. He tilts his head up, and he sees the way Clint is flushed, eyes a little unfocused, and it emboldens him, knowing he can have this effect on this man. “C’mon,” Bucky murmurs, stroking the sides of Clint’s face, then tangling a finger in his hair and giving it a slight pull, the way he knows Clint likes.

Clint’s eyes flutter shut, and Bucky licks a teasing path over the line of his throat, his tongue catching deliciously on Clint’s stubble. He feels the vibrations beneath his lips when Clint moans appreciatively.

Bucky pushes up on his tiptoes, bringing his mouth close to Clint’s ear as he whispers, “You can do anything you want to me.”

“Oh fuck,” Clint groans, and then Bucky feels himself being lifted into the air. He tightens his arms and legs around Clint’s strong body as Clint effortlessly carries him in the direction of the bedroom, and he’s giddy with anticipation, and with an unexpected lightness. Bucky isn’t used to being carried, to being handled. He’s always the biggest, strongest, toughest guy on the block. It’s fucking exhilerating to just give over to someone else, he’s fucking _hungry_ for Clint to take control.

Clint carries him into the bedroom and deposits him gently in the middle of the bed before climbing on top of him, kissing Bucky feverishly as he presses him down into the mattress. Bucky’s hard prick is caught between his body and Clint’s abs, and he whimpers as he rocks upwards, looking for more pressure.

“I know,” Clint croons as his hands move over Bucky’s chest, fumbling with his buttons. “It’s okay, babe. I’ll take care of you. I’ll make you feel so good.”

Clint only gets about half his buttons undone before he’s pushing the shirt down Bucky’s shoulders, trapping his arms in a twist of sleeves and suspender straps. With his arms loosely pinned to his sides, he can’t reach for Clint, can’t do anything but gasp when Clint starts mouthing over Bucky’s torso, licking at his skin, biting at his nipples until he’s a writhing mess beneath him. Fuck, Clint’s mouth is so warm and _hungry_ against him, and he wants to be eaten alive.

“I’ve got you,” Clint promises, sucking a path of wet kisses down the middle of his chest.

He fumbles to open Bucky’s pants, and Bucky thrusts desperately into the tease of his hands. He wants those fingers on him and _in_ him immediately.

“Be patient,” Clint chuckles, finally easing Bucky’s pants and shorts down over his legs.

“Can’t,” Bucky pants. “Been too long.”

“How long has it been?” Clint asks, and Bucky gasps when he feels Clint’s warm breath over his balls. His face is so close.

“Dunno. How long’s it been since I saw you?”

“It’s been a little while,” Clint admits, kissing a path over Bucky’s tender inner thigh. “No one else in that time?”

“Just you,” Bucky says. “Waiting for you.”

Clint curses softly under his breath, and then he finally puts his mouth on Bucky’s cock, sucking gently on just the head, tonguing lazily at his foreskin as Bucky squirms and cries out beneath him.

Clint pulls off of him and murmurs, “No one else’s mouth has ever been on that pretty cock?”

“Just you, oh God, Clint, no one else, just you,” Bucky babbles, blinking up at the ceiling, his hips rocking up into nothing. Clint runs one hand up each of his thighs, pressing his legs to his chest, and Bucky moans as the wet head of his cock brushes his own stomach.

“So I guess no one has ever put a mouth on that pretty hole, either?” Clint asks.

Before Bucky can even process what that means, he feels a soft, wet pressure sweeping over his hole, and oh God, that’s Clint’s tongue, that’s his _tongue_ and it’s so filthy and so hot, and so wrong and so right, and Bucky didn’t even know this was a thing that people _did_ , oh my God. He digs his heels down into Clint’s shoulders to hold him in place, and Bucky will gladly go to hell a million times over as long as Clint doesn’t stop.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky hiccups as Clint’s tongue gets pointy and insistent, prodding at his hole like it’s trying to get _inside_ him, and then it _does_ , Clint is licking him open and he’s fucking _ruined_.

“Jesus, you really like that,” Clint says reverently, his breath tickling at Bucky’s damp skin. “You don’t hold back at all, do you, baby?”

Bucky shakes his head weakly, his thoughts slow and syrupy inside his mind. He’s blissed out of his mind, this is the best goddamn thing he’s ever felt.

“You really don’t let anyone touch you here but me?” Clint muses. Bucky moans and tries to relax as he feels a fingertip wiggle inside of him, and then he keens as Clint licks sloppily at his rim.

No, he never lets anyone touch him here. It wouldn’t be the same. Nothing else would feel like this. It’s better to touch himself, to slick up his own cock or to experimentally slide a finger inside himself to clench down on. To play with himself and pretend that it’s Clint.

“I don’t want you to be sad and lonely waiting for me,” Clint says softly, crooking his finger in a way that makes Bucky see stars. “I’m sure there are some pretty girls or pretty boys who could make you feel good. It would be okay. I wouldn’t be mad.”

“No,” Bucky murmurs. “No one for me but you. Not now that I know you.” Clint’s quiet for a minute, and Bucky wriggles impatiently on his finger. It’s weird for Clint to be less than one hundred percent attentive. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Sorry.”

But it doesn’t sound like nothing, so Bucky sits up, wincing when Clint’s finger slips out of him. His arms are still loosely bound to his sides, but he awkwardly scoots his body as close as he can get to Clint.

“Hey,” Bucky says. He kisses along the strong line of Clint’s neck, chasing the smell and the heat of him. Clint gently slips his tangled suspender straps and shirtsleeves down, freeing each one of his arms, and Bucky sighs as he rolls his shoulders. “What about you? Have you been with anyone else since you met me?”

“No,” Clint says quietly. “No one for me but you either. No one else since I met you.” And Christ, he knew that, but it makes Bucky so happy to hear it anyway. “It just breaks my heart a little to think about you waiting, not knowing how long it might be.”

“It’s my choice,” Bucky says, nuzzling at Clint’s jaw. “I’d wait forever for you.” And he breaks character for just a moment, and he gets his lips right against Clint’s ear to whisper, “You were worth waiting for.”

He pulls back to look at Clint, tries to say everything with his eyes that he can’t put into words. And Clint smiles that sexy, lopsided smile that makes Bucky crazy, and he says, “You’re my best guy, Bucky Barnes,” and Bucky grins and kisses him.

He’s kissed other people before, of course. He’s no slouch in that department. But none of those girls made him feel like Clint makes him feel, no matter how pretty or eager or fun they were. This is something different. This is a once in a lifetime kind of deal, him and this man, stranded worlds and decades apart, waiting for the universe to get the timing just right. 

“Clint, I wanna lick inside you,” he whispers. “I wanna do that to you. Can I?”

“You sure?” Clint murmurs. “Do you know how?”

“You can teach me.” Christ, he wants to get his tongue inside Clint. It’s the most intimate thing that’s ever happened to him, the most intimate thing he can even _imagine_ doing to anyone, and he wants to do that for Clint, this man he’d wait a hundred lifetimes for.

“Sure thing, baby,” Clint says, stroking his fingers over the bare skin of Bucky’s back. “You want to get me all loose and open on your sweet tongue?”

“Please.”

God, Bucky wants it. And he’s completely naked now, and Clint’s still completely dressed. And he loves the scratch of the fabric against his bare skin but he wants Clint’s clothes off now, now, now. So he gently pushes Clint’s shoulders, and he falls easily back on his elbows, smiling up at Bucky. And Bucky gets to work getting him naked, pulling off his pants, rucking his shirt up his chest, kissing and licking at all of his beautiful skin, scarred and sweaty, a secret beneath his clothing that’s only Bucky’s to play with. He kisses his way from Clint’s ankle up to his thigh, rubbing his smooth cheek against Clint’s leg hair as he stalks his way up Clint’s body until he’s finally where he want to be.

Clint lazily spreads his legs and hitches his hips, offering himself up to Bucky. He’s so shameless, so confident in his own gorgeous nakedness. It’s intimidating, but Bucky is so hungry for this experience that he doesn’t have time to feel inadequate. He just wants to use his body to make Clint feel good. Clint will tell him how.

“Spread me open,” Clint murmurs.

He cups his ass in his own hands to show Bucky what he means, spreading his cheeks so that his winking hole is exposed, before moving his hands higher up, hugging his knees to his chest. Bucky slides his hands into place where Clint’s were, spreading him wide, and he thinks maybe he won’t need any instruction at all. He thinks this is going to be really intuitive.

“Just get me really, really wet,” Clint sighs. “Get me dripping with you.”

So Bucky leans in and just slurps a messy stripe over Clint’s hole that has him squealing and wriggling.

“Yes,” Clint gasps. “Fuck, like that. You’re perfect.”

This is the dirtiest thing Bucky has ever done, and Clint loves it, and Bucky loves it, too. He keeps his tongue soft, lush, as he licks over Clint again and again, tracing his puckered rim until it’s slippery and loose, and then he just pushes right in, catching his drool back on his tongue and licking it into Clint’s tight body. And Clint moans and squirms beneath him, and oh God, the rush of holding Clint tight in his grip so he can’t move, can’t do anything but receive this punishing, persistent pleasure from Bucky’s mouth. Bucky wants to fucking live between these thighs, tonguing deep into Clint’s body until he cries from it.

“Shit,” Clint whines. “Can you get a finger in me? See if I’m open enough.”

And it’s a tight fit at first, but Bucky manages to slip one careful finger inside of Clint, and by the time he gets to the second knuckle, Clint is bucking beneath him, riding his hand like he’s trying to get the whole thing inside of him, _fuck_. Bucky knows Clint likes to get fucked, but he’s never been the one to give it to him before, and it’s heady to feel Clint shattering to pieces on his tongue and his finger.

“Let me ride your cock,” Clint slurs. “Make it so good for you, baby. You just lie back, I’ll ride you so good. You don’t have to do any work. Ride your pretty cock so good, I swear.”

“Fuck, yes.” Bucky’s neglected dick perks up again at the idea. “How? How do we do that? Do I...open you more?”

“Take too long,” Clint pants. “You’re too careful.” He pats blindly in the bed until he finds the shirt he was wearing earlier and pulls something from the pocket. “C’mere, let me lick your cock while I open myself up.”

Bucky knee-walks up the bed towards Clint’s mouth, but when his finger starts to slip out, Clint shudders and clenches down tightly, trapping him.

“No,” Clint whispers. “Leave it in me. Please.”

And it takes a minor miracle and a major acrobatic feat, but Clint manages to mouth messily at Bucky’s cock while shoving two more slippery fingers inside himself. Bucky feels the slide of them past his own stationary finger, feels the clench and the give of Clint’s body as he hurriedly loosens himself up. He shallowly thrusts into Clint’s mouth, feeling him drool over his cock. He realizes he’s got Clint plugged up at both ends, dick in his mouth, finger in his ass. It’s the most _inside_ someone else he’s ever been before, and he groans and rocks his hips slightly to feel his cockhead catch on the corner of Clint’s wanton lips.

“In me,” Clint mutters, words muffled by Bucky’s cock. “Need you in me now,” he says, like Bucky isn’t already.

“How should I…?” Bucky asks, and Clint pulls back from his dick with a reluctant look, and their fingers slip out of him.

“Get on your back,” Clint pants. “Relax, baby.”

Bucky sprawls backwards on the bed, and it’s only a moment before Clint is clambering on top of him, one slick, sure hand working Bucky’s cock.

“Christ, you’re fucking beautiful,” Clint murmurs, looking down at him. “You’re a fucking pretty picture, James Barnes.”

And then Clint sinks down onto his cock, and all Bucky can do is moan.

Nothing’s ever felt like this. Nothing has ever felt like the heat and the slick slide of Clint’s body tightly working his hard cock, oh God. Clint rides him _hard_ , like he’s so caught up in his own desire that he doesn’t remember to be gentle, and Bucky _likes it_. Clint’s fucking himself exactly the way he likes to be fucked, and he’s using Bucky’s cock to do it. The pace is feverish, frenzied, and God, Bucky gets it now, he gets why people go on about fucking, because this is _incredible_.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh _fuck_ ,” Clint whines, and then he comes all over himself without even getting a hand on his own cock, grinding down hard on Bucky’s dick, continuing to fuck himself through his orgasm and out the other side.

The sensation of Clint bouncing on his dick is fucking phenomenal, but it’s the sight of Clint hiccuping and tearing up as he continues to let Bucky use his spent, oversensitive body that pushes Bucky over the edge, coming harder than he thinks he ever has.

Clint rolls off of Bucky with a wounded noise, panting up at the ceiling, blinking away tears, and Bucky kisses the corner of his eye and pets his hair and waits for him to settle.

“Shit,” Clint whispers after a minute. “Think I lost myself there. Was that okay? Was that what you wanted?”

“That was perfect,” Bucky murmurs, giving Clint a small kiss on the cheek. “You’re perfect. Wait here, I’ll get you cleaned up.”

Clint’s usually the one to take care of Bucky afterwards, but Bucky can take care of Clint, too. He can get a warm damp cloth and tenderly clean between Clint’s sore thighs.

“Thanks,” Clint murmurs sleepily. “Fuck, I’m spent. That was amazing. Love your cock.”

“I love you,” Bucky whispers, and Clint snaps back to attention at that.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Clint says softly, finding Bucky’s hand in the bed and giving it a squeeze. “I love you, too.”

“Will you stay the night or do you have to go?”

“I’m staying right here,” Clint says, wrapping both arms around Bucky and kissing his forehead, and Bucky’s heart skips happily. “All night long, baby. Right here, with you.”

Bucky falls asleep with a smile on his face and Clint’s arms still wrapped tight around him.

And he wakes up much the same way.

“Morning,” Bucky mumbles, touching his forehead to Clint’s, pushing the hair out of his eyes. “You good?”

“Fuck,” Clint groans, rolling over. “Jesus, I got a workout yesterday. My hamstrings are fucking killing me.”

Bucky palms the backs of Clint’s thighs, working his fingers deep into the tense muscles. “Better or worse?”

“Oh fuck,” Clint moans. “Yeah, that hurts, but in a good way. Keep doing that.”

Bucky works his hands up and down the length of Clint’s hamstrings until he’s relaxed and practically purring in the bed. And then they just lie together, Clint’s head on Bucky’s shoulder, fingertips idly tracing patterns over Bucky’s chest.

“Was that okay yesterday?” Clint asks after a while. “Feel like I went a little off script. I hope I didn’t ruin it.”

“I had fun,” Bucky says, rubbing his thumb over Clint’s hipbone. “There’s no script. It was perfect. Thank you.”

“Don’t need to thank me,” Clint says, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s sternum. “You know I like it, too.”

Bucky uses two fingers under Clint’s chin to tip his face up, and then they’re kissing lazily, Clint humming contentedly into Bucky’s mouth. The games and the pretending is fun, but this is fun, too. Bucky’s glad they can have both.

“Hey,” Clint says quietly when they break apart. “Should we try to go back for him? For you? Should I...should I be trying to go back for real? I fucking hate that you missed me.”

“No, sweetheart,” Bucky says, shaking his head. He feels a powerful wave of affection for Clint for even suggesting it, but…. “I would’ve loved to see you again. Of course I would. But I needed that hope. Waiting gave me something to look forward to. I couldn’t give up until I found my way to you again. And if we change that, we might change something else, and I couldn’t bear that.”

Clint doesn’t look convinced, and Bucky loves him so much in this moment that he can’t even articulate it.

“The things that happened to me have already happened,” Bucky says gently. “Every bad thing is already over. It’s just this now. You and me and any kind of trouble we want to get up to together.”

“I’ve never been any trouble a day in my life,” Clint lies primly.

Bucky laughs and rolls on top of him. He gently pins Clint’s arms to the pillow above his head, and he plants small kisses all over Clint’s face until he starts laughing, too.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://1000-directions.tumblr.com/post/626033508766416896/title-youre-the-only-one-i-want-link-ao3)


End file.
